Bitten
by alterocentrics
Summary: Stiles and Isaac have been dating for a while yet and Isaac still won't tell anyone, which upsets Stiles. After they fight about it, Stiles goes and gets drunk, leading to an encounter with an alpha.


Isaac and Stiles were in Stiles' room, on his bed, Isaac's head in Stiles' lap as he read a book for English class. Stiles was absentmindedly running his finger through Isaac's soft curls as he tried to concentrate on his Algebra homework (failing miserably, of course, because Algebra is boring as hell). He sighed and set the textbook aside, turning instead to study Isaac's face as he read—his slightly furrowed eyebrows, his bottom lip between his teeth.

Stiles was just about to say something when the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs stopped him. Also hearing the footsteps approaching Stiles' door, Isaac quickly sat up and got off the bed, moving over to stand by the window like he was about to bolt. Stiles gave him a look, a "dude, really?" kind of look, but was barred from saying anything as there was a knock on the door and subsequent entry.

"Hey Stiles," Scott said, coming through the door without pausing after his knock, because when it came to Scott there was really no such thing as privacy. "Isaac." Scott noticed him standing by the window. "What are you doing here?"

Scott had noted that Stiles and Isaac had seemed to be on better terms the last few months, meaning they didn't glare at each other anymore whenever they were in the same room, but it was still strange to him to find him in Stiles' bedroom.

"Stiles was just, uh, helping me with some homework," Isaac said, which was true, but he said it in the sort of nervous fashion that made it sound very much like a lie.

"Oh. Cool," Scott replied. "Um, I was just wondering if I could borrow that video game that you bought last week. And I was wondering if you wanted to go out and have a bro's night. Hit up a club or something with Danny, Boyd, and me."

"Yeah, sure," Stiles said. "I'll meet you back at your house in a little bit?"

Scott turned to Isaac and asked, "Do you want to come?"

"Uh, no, I've got—uh things to do," Isaac answered.

Looking a little suspicious, Scott said, "Yeah, OK. Just come by later if you change your mind."

Scott left the room, leaving Isaac and Stiles in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Stiles said, "What was that?"

"What?" Isaac replied defensively.

"That whole thing. I thought you said you were going to tell him we're together."

"I will, I just…" Isaac drifted off. "I haven't found the time."

Stiles stood and walked over to Isaac, taking his hand and looking him in the eyes. "I told you, if you want me to do it, I can."

"No, it's just—I'll do it okay! Just give me a little time." Isaac ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

Stiles was starting to get frustrated, too. "You've been saying that for weeks now! I _have _given you time. Just tell him!" He wanted to be able to actually do things with Isaac; go out on dates, maybe actually be seen _around _with him. He was sick of Isaac acting like he was so ashamed of them.

"I'm just not ready to yet, okay?" Isaac practically yelled back. Stiles barely had time for a _wow, I think we're actually having our first fight _to fly through his hyperactive brain before Isaac continued, "I don't think I'm ready to come out yet, Stiles. Can't you just accept that and let me do it when I'm ready?"

Stiles paused. He hadn't thought that that was what Isaac was worried about. He let out a breath. "Isaac—" he started.

Isaac just grabbed him jacket and without looking him in the eye said, "Whatever. I'll see you later." He slipped out of the room.

Stiles fell back on his bed with a groan.

Three hours and almost twice that many drinks later, Stiles was feeling pleasantly buzzed (translation: he was really drunk). He and Scott stood at the bar, waiting for more drinks.

"Hey, I think that guy is checking you out," Scott said, not-so-subtly waving a pointer finger in the direction of the guy he was talking about. "Yeah, he's definitely checking you out. You should go talk to him."

"Naw," Stiles slurred without even looking. "Not really feeling like it." His mood was slightly marred by thoughts of his earlier argument with Isaac.

"Why not? What's wrong?"

"It's just that Isaa—" Stiles abruptly cut himself off. "I mean, uh, I don't know. Not in the mood? I think I'm gonna go home, actually." He came to the conclusion that his tendency to be a talkative drunk plus having a secret to keep meant that he should probably not be around the people he was attempting to keep a secret from after a lot to drink, and that it might be better for him to go home.

"What? Why?"

"'m tired," he replied, feigning a yawn. "Don't worry about me. Stay, keep drinking. I'm just gonna—" he jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the door and took a few steps in that direction. He stumbled a little over his feet, but Scott caught his arm and steadied him.

"I don't think you should be driving, man," he said. "Maybe I should—"

"No, I'm just gonna walk. Seriously, stay. I'll be fine. 'S only a few blocks."

"You sure?" Scott still looked skeptical, but Stiles insisted, so Scott let him go. "Call me if you need anything!" Scott yelled after him as he walked away. With a wave over his shoulder, he exited the bar into the cool night air.

The street was mostly dark, the streetlights bringing dim pools of light every few yards not enough to illuminate much. Stiles shivered and pulled his coat a little tighter around himself, hands stuffed deep into his pocket. He still stumbled a little every few steps, but he was aware enough to know the way back home.

As he walked past a dark alleyway, he could've sworn he heard something. Common sense having been left behind at the bar with his sobriety, he paused. The sound came again. That time Stiles thought it might have been a growl. Shaking his head lightly as if to clear it of the sound, he continued on down the street.

He'd gotten maybe three steps when something connected with him from behind, pitching him forward on to the concrete. His head collided painfully with the sidewalk, and he let out a low groan. Vision blurry and going dark around the edges, almost certainly a result of a concussion, he tried to look around but something was pinning him down. He felt a sharp pain in his back, his side, and his struggle to hold back unconsciousness was overcome.

Consciousness came back in flashes.

He came around briefly to feel the pressure lifting off him, someone grabbing him and flipping him over. Muffled sounding voices drifted in his ears, but he couldn't make sense of them. Face drifted in and out of his vision, blurry and indistinct. He couldn't feel his body; he felt kind of like he was floating.

The second time he was being carried, arms around him warm and strong. More voices; he thought they said his name. No longer was he numb. On the contrary, every inch of his body hurt. He let out a groan before he was pulled back under.

In Scott's kitchen, Isaac paced agitatedly back and forth. Scott sat tensely on one of the wooden dining chairs, every muscle taunt. They had brought Stiles to Mrs. McCall after they had found him, bloodied and bruised on the sidewalk about a block from the bar.

Isaac had come to the bar looking for Stiles, wanting to talk, to be informed by Scott he had already left twenty minutes ago, and should've been at home. When Isaac told him that he had just been by Stiles' house and that he was definitely not there, they had both gone out looking for him. And they had found him, thankfully still alive, but getting farther from it every minute.

Derek, who had arrived a few minutes ago, came out of the McCall's living room. "He was attacked by an alpha," he informed the two. "Probably one of the alpha pack. I'm not sure why, though." Isaac stopped pacing and stood behind Scott's chair, hands gripping the back of tightly.

"Was he bitten?" Scott asked.

Derek looked down and nodded. "His side."

Scott put his head down on the table and Isaac turned around, running a hand through his hair. He turned back to Derek. "Is he turning or…" He allowed the sentence to drift off, unable to finish it.

"Right now it seems like his body is fighting the bite," Derek said quietly. "But it could turn around."

Isaac nodded, trying to hold on to some sliver of hope. He could feel the fear of losing Stiles soaking into every corner of his being, crippling him and making him just want to just lie down and curl up in an attempt to fend of the pain, the way he used to. This warred with his instinct to go after the people who had hurt him, to hunt down every member of the alpha pack and tear them limb from limb or die trying.

He did neither. Instead he slipped past Derek into the living room. Mrs. McCall was crouched by the side of the couch, her hand around Stiles'. She looked up when he entered and said, "I did all I could for him, but I guess it's up to whether or not he's strong enough to accept the bite." Her voice sounded thick, like she was close to tears. "I'm—I'm just gonna go check on Scott then," she said quietly, and exited, leaving Isaac alone with Stiles.

He took Mrs. McCall's vacated spot by the side of the couch, reaching out and taking Stiles' hand.

Isaac woke up in the mid-morning light to find Scott resting against the couch beside him and Derek sprawled on an armchair. Both were sleeping, Scott drooling a little and Derek no less tense looking than when awake. Isaac stretched contentedly for a moment, before remembering the night before. He sat bolt upright and looked to the couch.

It was completely vacant. Stiles was gone.

Hearing a noise from the kitchen, Isaac quickly stood and rushed to the other room. "Stiles?" he said. Mrs. McCall was standing at the stove, flipping pancakes.

"He's fine," she said. "Woke up a few hours ago. He's completely healed."

Isaac sighed with relief and slumped against the wall. "Where is he?"

"He went to tell his dad he was alright. He should be back soon."

Scott and Derek shuffled out of the living room behind Isaac. "So he's okay?" Scott said. "Did he seem…okay with everything?"

Mrs. McCall nodded. "He didn't seem to be freaking out too much. I think…I think this might have been something he's wanted for a while."

"So what's gonna happen now?" Isaac asked. "Is he gonna join Derek's pack or is he gonna be an omega like Scott?"

"That's up to him," Derek replied.

Just then, the door opened and Stiles entered. "Hey, guys," he said, grinning.

Scott walked forward and embraced him tightly. "You scared us, dude," Scott said, muffled because his face has pressed into Stiles' shoulder. "Don't ever do that again." Scott pulled away.

Derek patted Stiles' shoulder, nodding a goodbye to everyone before leaving.

"Pancakes," Mrs. McCall called, piling them onto plates. Scott went to grab one, and Stiles made to follow him, but Isaac grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

He didn't say anything, just pulled him into a hug and rested his chin on Stiles' head. Stiles sighed against his chest, wrapping his arms around Isaac's waist. They stayed like that for a few seconds before pulling apart, but stayed close together as they got pancakes and sat down at the McCall's kitchen table.

As they all sat eating pancakes together on that Saturday morning, happy and laughing, Isaac felt like part of a real family, something he hadn't felt since his mother had died. He felt included. Accepted.

He cleared his throat, and the other three all turned to look at him.

"I-I have something I want to tell you guys," he said. Stiles met his eyes and smiled encouragingly. "Well, actually," he amended, reaching over and taking Stiles' hand, "_we _have something we want to tell you."


End file.
